


This just to say

by oddishly



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-31 00:52:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6448963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddishly/pseuds/oddishly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Brad brings in cakes, Nate misses it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This just to say

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goshemily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goshemily/gifts).



> This really wasn't supposed to be the first thing I posted in Generation Kill fandom.

The first time Brad brings in cakes, Nate misses it. He's spent all morning catching the highly-regarded new Lieutenant Colonel up to speed and the last 20 minutes trying a little desperately to discourage him from turning the base into some sort of summer camp for troubled teenagers when he realizes he's being given shit.

He musters up a smile from somewhere as the Lieutenant Colonel laughs him out of his office and tells him to grab some chow, stalks the back way through the building and even makes it back to his own office before a head pokes around the door.

"Interrogative--"

"Ray," says Nate with as much officer in his voice as he can put there. "What can I do for you?"

"Sir," says Ray. "Your frostiest Marine missed his calling as a baker. Requesting permission to deploy him to Paris next time."

Nate stares.

"Brad," Ray clarifies. "He made us all these little cakes with Humvees on top. I wondered if you'd had the chance to partake of the lemon fancies before Hasser demolished them all. Or perhaps you're a chocolate man--"

"Ray, I've had a long morning, and our new CO has a sense of humor that bears a striking resemblance to--"

"Taking that as a no, sir," says Ray brightly. "Sergeant Colbert!" he hollers down the hallway, which is when Nate spots the crumbs trailing down the front of Ray's uniform. He frowns.

"Ray, what do I have to tell you about using your indoor voice," comes Brad's voice from far down the hall and getting closer; Nate decides not to notice Ray's twitching eyebrows and schools his face into neutrality. "I know you were raised in a--oh. Hello, sir." Brad nods at Nate from the doorway. "Sorry about Person, sir. Again."

"Brad. Ray tells me you enjoy baking. This is the first I've heard of it, can you confirm?"

Ray hoots. Brad, hardened Recon Marine who has seen active service in two separate wars in the last two years and who carries an unbeaten reputation for staying cool under fire, blushes where he stands in Nate's doorway.

Nate tries very, very hard not to feel charmed.

"Affirmative, sir," says Brad. "My sisters didn't have the knack for it so my mother taught me to bake instead. And I thought it would be good for the weedy runts among us--like Person, here--to try eating something not on par with MREs."

Ray looks delighted.

"Are they good?" says Nate, and doesn't even try to convince himself it's not because he wants Brad to continue blushing like that.

"Outstanding, sir. Do it right or don't do it."

Nate nods and pastes an inquiring look on his face. "Well. Where are they, then?"

"I ate the last one on my way down here," says Ray mournfully, then turns to Brad and continues, "it was delicious--so sweet and so crumbly--"

Brad drags Ray away down the hall. Nate spends a long moment torn between delight and disappointment before sighing and picking up the notes for his next meeting.

 

 

Four hours and three meetings later, Nate unlocks his office to find a flawlessly-iced red velvet cupcake sat in the middle of his desk, a little Lego Humvee perched on top. Underneath is a note written in Brad's neat, spare handwriting, and Nate takes the better part of a minute talking himself out of butterflies.

_LT. A better Recon Marine than Ray would know I'd make sure to hide one from him. --BC._

Nate slips the note and the Humvee in his pocket, then takes a bite, beaming.


End file.
